New York
New York
Dark outside all I see is a figure, which is bald and wears glasses.
I remember a time when there was a war and we had to use black
curtains so the enemy flying over the town could not see it, even
though it was on their map. And sometimes they dropped bombs
anyway just for the hell of it. My uncle a merchant seaman, told me
of the fantastic sight coming from a war torn Europe and seeing
New York lit up like a colossal Christmas tree, like seeing paradise.
New Yorkers treated foreign seamen with great respect and
much beer was drunk… my uncle survived after being torpedoed
three times. When he after five years came home to Norway,
he was told who lucky he was having avoided the hunger of war.
It is dark outside but not as dark as my uncle´s mind when he,
after the war tried to return to his New York, they wouldn´t let
him go because he behaved so strangely… five years of war and
know one understood he suffered post traumatic stress. And no
recognition came his way…alone by the shore of lost sanity he
dreamed of his beloved New York.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
